Left For
by PurpleYin
Summary: Draco Malfoy's world is more than a little different. Here see a window into his heart and mind. What is it to be the worst type of slytherin? And how could he love her....?
1. The boy with no beginning

Disclaimer: No I don't own Harry Potter etc. J K Rowling does. But the poetry is definitely mine, and only mine.

Author's Note: something I made up in a spare halfhour, hope someone likes it. not my usual ship or character to write aobut so I hope its not too out-of-character for you all. Atleast this isn't the sappy puppy draco sometimes seen in fanfics, here he has his reasons, my attempt to explain them. so read and please review. And hopefully too, enjoy. If you like this you could also check out my other fanfics as I have a few more harry potter ones (but sorry only two of them have draco in) 

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_Left For_

~

An angel

That was her

To every bit of her body

Fallen from the stars

That's what I said, 

Exactly what I called her

She was mine

For all the dark times

When I thought I'd lose control

She kept me sane

In a love made from a deep running pain

She never knew

Why I stared to her,

Why I looked onto her face 

Like she'd bestowed some awful grace 

On me, the deathly boy

Who could not hold an ounce of goodness

In his damned heart

I took hers as mine, 

The minute I saw who she was

I forgot in my head, deliberately

What it was that meant she couldn't be

That stopped me from ever telling her

I only wanted to stay as I'd grown accustomed to

Yet she showed me a light, blinding as it was

In it I focused on her, not what was above

And I came to be, different

Somewhere between what I was before

And what I should have been to her

An angel

Saving me from damnation

She lifted me up, graciously;

Unknowingly

I am no longer forsaken

All for her

And now for me

I need to stand

Free from all

Even her

Taking my first defiant steps

If I wish to do so

And turning to her possibly

I might just walk that direction

Yes, maybe

Depends if I can take

What's reality

I still have the face of a demon

Can't expect a hero's welcome

I'll get not a drop of respect for any of this

The question is

Will I carry on regardless

Can I get over the bodies behind me

And the legacy

Of the years

~~~

That was her. I dreamt of her even as I scowled at her with my sly face across the potions room.

I thought for a second I might see a small tear in the corner of her eye. But I reminded myself it didn't matter.

Because however much I had to hurt her to keep up such a pretence, to still be able to adore her, the price I'd pay for such a betrayal on my honour was far too great for a pretty little mudblood.

It helped for me to refer to her as that. To keep in character with what I was meant to be, my heritage, my legacy passed from all the hateful Malfoy's before me. An ambition I had to succeed in.

I was the fearless impenetrable Draco Malfoy. I didn't let mudbloods or mugglelovers into my mind, let alone my heart.

So she was just a lust, if anyone was to know. Just some thing that I wanted and hated at the same time.

A bit of something denied, that was the only way I could ever justify it to my father.

I was the living inferior model of him after all.

He at both moments expected from me, the utmost and irreproachable manner suitable of a Malfoy (and greater than himself) and too he saw me as the weakly wretched son he wished he'd never had.

I was only really his possession at all points. One to be moulded into another him perhaps. Being better than the previous and still not towering over enough to crowd his ego.

It was a hard job. I'd failed enough in the past.

Perhaps you'd see from my past, that's why I'm not a goody-two-shoes Potter or know-it-all Granger. I don't have time to learn everything, I have duties I can't deny for fear of what would happen and I cannot shirk of my family for morality. It too was a matter of survival.

In my world things are grey, good or bad in so far as they kept me out of real trouble – my fathers disapproval. 

Good only came in the brief parts of the year when I could have fun, have only schoolwork to do and not having to directly answer to my father.

I always indirectly had to explain my actions to him. If I did wrong, he'd know, I'd know too by the time I found myself in the drawing room come holiday time.

I did all he said and as he said because there was no option not too. I didn't have the luxury of choice. I did his bidding and his masters bidding without question.

I'd only hoped that it would never be anymore than had been so far. I'd not yet been asked to kill but I feared someday I would have that task.

And maybe then I'd be ended in my existence. Facing the great Potter, who'd win of course, if only because he was doing the brilliantly white righteous action.

Harry Potter appeared to operate in black & white. He'd break rules but he'd get away with doing too because it was for the good cause.

I on the other hand did what I did, and nothing so greatly bad at that, merely name-calling and acting in a befitting manner so not to be tortured by my father. Yet I got no benefit of the doubt.

I'd known since I'd met him he'd been like that, he'd not been able to see past my fathers words as they crawled out of my mouth. Right then and there I'd had no hope of him as a friend. If I had it would have been doomed I know, he would have been true to me as he is to his happy trio but if he had accepted he'd be in Voldemorts grasp, by blackmail or by my doing.

It was better for his life to be out of my hands, or of my father's manipulation.

And the chances of him ever saying yes that day were so remotely slim anyway.

Sometimes I wished to be him. To be close to her mainly. So I would have no questions of blood, pure or tainted. If I was him things would be easy, I'd just do what was right.

That wouldn't be me. I wasn't raised that way but it's tempting to imagine for a second.

What I would be if I could let that dream materialise.

Most likely I'd die. Lucius maybe. Voldemort possibly. My own hands even as they'd still doubt my intentions.

No one would trust me. Never. For I am a Malfoy.

They however know the truth, better than I, for I hold delusions of a grandeur. 

But no, I could never be anything else. Trying would get me worse than everything is.

Right now I have an excuse for being bad because I lack any control, everyone but me knows what I will do. There are those giving the orders and those who think they see my character, they only see what I am asked to commit – misinterpreted as my own.

Still they do know me. 

I can't change.

And worse even than death or doubt or pain.

There would be that slap on the face or the tears on hers for my incredibility to suggest that I, the cruellest boy known to earth and to her, could possibly ever like Hermione Granger.

I went back to my almost over bubbling cauldron. The potion was a sickly green. I smiled at the mixture suggestively and wondered if Weasley would appreciate a new set of warts or maybe even more disastrously roots!… at that I reached to my left and picked up the bowl of crushed ragwort.

Ah, yes, father would be proud.


	2. The path of thorns

Disclaimer: No I don't own Harry Potter etc. J K Rowling does. But the poetry is definitely mine, and only mine.

Author's Note: I wasn't intending to continue but I was inspired to write more. I'm not sure what anyone was expecting but I hope it is good. This is the second short chapter of three. There won't be anymore after that unless i decide to write a different pov. Anyway, enjoy (if that's the right word) and please check out my other harry potter fanfic (I thrive on reviews, the more I get the more I write and don't be afraid to point out mistakes etc as long as it is constructive). Somehow I think this mindset is oddly suitable for Draco but let me know what you think of it.

**_Left For_ **

I stalk her.  
I taunt her.  
Everything for her  
In my sick and twisted way  
I am everything to her  
Her life in my hands  
Her life made into nightmare  
But the only way to be  
If I am to be there  
  
I'm weak, not on form now, alone.  
My goons gone. My _friends_ vanished, like the typical Slytherins they are. More fairweather than the clouds themselves.

There is only her.  
And my former self.  
I still have it good enough to push the button I know is hidden under her calm facade.She slaps me because even when I'm bad at what I do what I said was was just enough to provoke a response.It was really all I wanted, her flesh against my flesh, stark and harsh like my feelings for her and my contrasting words spoken to her.

I don't care about the pain, I want it to last, to never stop because even the pain is heavenly coming from her. That she'd cared enough to hit me, to not ignore me like everyone had taken to.

That no else was enough, to fill me up, it didn't matter if it was love or hate. She was both for me, pure passion - which way it went I didn't care as long as she had it.

I took arithmancy to be with her. I knew she would take it. Other than her intelligence she 'd also checked out nearly all the books in the library related to it over the last several years.  
It was her favourite.  
It didn't matter what it was to me, only what she was to me.

Infact I'd read with awe the numbers of books she'd gotten through and I'd even checked out as many out myself as soon as they came back, just to scour the pages she'd touched, fresh from her.

I'd linger on them, taking it in and wondering which she'd liked best, what she'd found difficult, where she'd spent most time. What she actually cared about that I could share almost like I shared it with her, though she'd never know it.

She was always the best student, always tried the hardest and I knew she wanted to be the star.  
I'd always come second best to her despite the plannings of my parents and now I tried to be second to her. I'd rather she brag to me, sarcastically congratulate me for being second than have to put her down once again. It was the one concession I made for her however much I tore at her verbally.  
  
I didn't mind being second best to her as much as anyone else, but privately I wanted to beat her or to simply know I could be good enough.  
I never was and I never said anything because I knew there was no way to be good enough, not by breeding or by class or her highly held knowledge.My name was all it took to be nothing much.  
  
My family forever there and against me, all I can do is embrace what I am meant to be.  
My father was never the only problem, it was my family, what they are influencing what I am to be and what is thought of me. Escaping my father did nothing to free me from my fate or to get me what I want. My name is simple enough to bind me to things I don't want and away from what I dream of..

It's ironic too, that as a Malfoy I could not have what I wanted and to not be good enough for a mudblood. Since Malfoys are meant to get what they ask for and automatically be the top of everything, the richest, the purest. Now we were known for being the evilest, naturally.

My father said if you were going to do something then do it properly. Which was why I said those things that carved out her heart and made her cry in the corridoors when she thought she was far enough away from me and everyone else to. I'd stopped trying to blame it as what was denied, as a lust but equally it could only ever be an unrequited love, something I would not accept.

I had to be something to her, more than Potter or Weasley were.  
If being the worst was all I could do then its what I did with joy and pleasure and cruel charm.  
  
She hates me ofcourse. I wouldn't have it any other way.  
Just as I'm second best to her, her hate is the second best way for me to mean anything to her.

Actually I'm kidding myself there, it _is_ the best I'll get. It could only be second best if she could ever possibly love me and since I can never know the truth then I am set to make it certain that she despises me with all her heart.

Nothing less would be good enough for me.


	3. The end that was his beginning

Disclaimer: No I don't own Harry Potter etc. J K Rowling does. But the poetry is definitely mine, and only mine.

Author's Note: I wasn't intending to continue but I was inspired to write more. I'm not sure what anyone was expecting but I hope it is good. This is the third and last short chapter of the three. There won't be anymore after that unless I decide to write a different pov. Anyway, enjoy (if that's the right word) and please check out my other harry potter fanfic (I thrive on reviews, the more I get the more I write and don't be afraid to point out mistakes etc as long as it is constructive). A fitting last chapter I hope.

**_Left For_ **

Spent so much time in tears  
That never fell to earth  
Resigning life to what would be  
And letting the dreams  
Fall into fantasy with no thought that quite often,  
The worst wish can be the one come trueSomehow I always knew it would come to this.  
That I'd never be able to over come what my whole life had made me, how I was expected to be.  
  
I was always Draco Malfoy, heir to my house and another slightly off kilter deatheater.  
But I wasn't mad from torture, that I could sustain, and I wasn't mad by birth or by life. For though nothing was ever what I wanted and I had hardships none would ever know, I could always deal with it.  
  
Except that one.  
Her.  
  
I'd wanted to be more, different, myself - a person I could never know; foreign.  
Someone everyone else thought they knew explicitly though noone not even me could know him.  
A dream of her and me, a fantasy I refused to accept even though I could not deny I wanted it.  
It was never any more real than this, my living hell, was a nightmare.

When I'd watched her for those years I'd always wanted to believe I could be with her, that I could be with her, as myself, as the man I wanted to be instead of the face of the future of the Malfoy's.

It was partly because the future didn't look very bright for my family but mostly that I wanted to be something she would admire instead of look down upon. I couldn't stand her doing that after the many years I purposely did everything I could to get that undesirable but ever so wanted attention.

When I'd cracked and could take no more of my torture, the only kind I could not live with, I fled from her and all semblance of my life around her.

Since then I flinch at the mere memory of those days. Hogwarts is a bitter home and a grave for my love for her, best as it is laid. It even tries to house my hate but I don't think either of those emotions ever fled from my mind the way I did in reality.

I'd always stopped myself first before I'd even considered doing something other than being 'Draco Malfoy' with her. Knowing better I told myself that she'd never get past what I'd done in the name of cowardice and of my fathers excuses, she would never understand that I was more than a Malfoy - forever graced with bad faith.

Ofcourse there was a good reason I stopped myself, other than that I'd never get that wish, I found it somehow better to be alive and unsatisfied.

I wasn't so sure today.

I faced her, wand at my side.  
My grip on it waning in my sweaty palms.  
  
Her hair was like a halo of curls around her, her rose lips parted slightly in surprise.  
I wondered if it was because she hadn't known it would be me who would be here or if simply that she was caught, that Hermione Granger had been bettered.  
I used to dream of that, of being better than her, but it was unappealing now it had happened.  
  
I didn't want to be the person here but it felt like a duty to her to see her now.  
I was supposed to be the last person she saw, some comfort, yet I wanted it to be. I wanted her to look at me and feel something other than fear and hate.  
I'd hated her for so long it didn't seem right that that was all that belonged to us.  
I wanted it to end here, and it was supposed to, just not an ending either of us would want.  
  
She didn't say anything at all, no witty retort about how she'd escape yet I still found her perfect. Maybe she thought she couldn't and wouldn't be able to get away, this time.  
Her hand holding her wand shook as we stood off opposite each other.  
Did she truly fear me?  
  
I'd been staring far too long and I felt a sharp pain in my arm for my fault, the dark mark searing into it. I hid the agony with a mask of nothingness.  
It was what I was ultimately. A blank slate that people had always painted who they wanted me to be on it. It hadn't always been a nice picture from all angles but it was what people expected from me. No one but my father would understand that they had been the ones to make me, to shape me into this.  
  
I'd been given an order, long ago.  
To do my 'master's' bidding; without question. To kill and maime and torture in his name everyone who I was taught to be unworthy.  
  
I didn't question this, as I bluntly didn't accept it. If anyone was worthy it was her.  
  
I would not be her murderer.  
Meaning I would not be at all.  
  
For once in my life I smiled genuinely and carefree from my eyes, my face softer than anyone would have thought it was capable of.  
And my lips mouthed the password I could not speak to her, before my body slumped to the floor.  
  
My last thought is that for once I had shown her I loved her, that my actions had done what my words had never been permitted to.  
I had shown more than hate, I had broken the cycle of passion I'd created, of my obsession and at last I was free. I'd done one thing in my life I'd actually wanted to do, that meant something to me, to not harm her; defying to the death because it meant my death to not obey whom I had been promised to at birth.  
  
The obedience charm I had over me so long was broken and I by it but not without out reason and purpose.  
She'd live on, with a memory of me that was memorable atleast and really that was all I could ever achieve.  
  
So I accepted it and hoped in death I'd see my angel once again.  
And that heaven had Mai Tai's, with those umbrellas in.  
  
A/N: The obedience charm isn't a new thing, I've seen it in a few fics including the wonderful Barb's Psychic Serpent trilogy. And some of you out there probably know about the Mai Tai thing and why I bothered putting that in. 


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